


Taxidermy

by Ias



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, F/F, Pre-Canon, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2821241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ias/pseuds/Ias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piece by piece, they've been pulled apart. There was a time when Nebula and Gamora were defined by more than the scars they left on each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taxidermy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessalae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/gifts).



> Happy Holidays! The title of this fic is related to a fanmix I made for Nebula, because I care way too much about blue cyborg space assassins. Find it [here](http://8tracks.com/ias/taxidermy).

Gamora cried as she had never cried before in her life. Her muscles locked up like they were in the grip of an electric current, her arms crushing her narrow knees so tightly to her chest it hurt. The pressure in her head threatened to burst her eyeballs, but she couldn't make herself stop crying for anything in the world. Her world had been consumed.

Images flashed through her mind, as unstoppable as the beating of the waves. She remembered her mother, her father—the memories that would have brought her comfort tangled with the sounds of their screams, the smell of blood and burning. Her weak fists hammering the soldiers that had come for her family. A single finger pointing at her, a smile in a stony face— _She shows promise. Take her._ Gamora's fingernails dug into the skin of her shoulders, as if she could cage herself into her own body and keep the fear out. It wasn't working.

"You shouldn't cry." The voice made Gamora's neck jerk up involuntarily, meeting a pair of serious eyes in a blue face. The girl must have been her own age, a little older. She was looking at Gamora with sullen sense of chiding.

"Who are you?" Gamora demanded in a high voice choked with tears. It was hard to get the words out when her throat was strung as tightly as a bow. "How did you get in here?"

"I picked the lock on the door," the bleu girl said, gesturing behind her where the door was shut. "You'll have to learn to do that yourself—they lock us all in our rooms every night."

The words tore at Gamora's insides, left her shaking again. Another sob escaped her throat. "This isn't my room. I can't stay here, I—I have to get back to my home. My mom will be worried…" The other girl watched her with a mingled sense of curiosity and detachment.

"They won't let you cry again after the first night," she said. "You need to stop."

Gamora's breaths came rough and fast now, panic swelling like a tidal wave. "I can't," she stammered between gasps. "I can't stop."

The blue girl stared down at her blankly for a moment before sighing. "Yes, you can," she said. She plopped down on her knees across from Gamora in a motion that made the younger girl flinch. She folded her hands in her lap and sat with her back as straight as a ruler, perfectly poised.

"Like this," she said haughtily. "Make yourself sit and breathe. If you just breathe, you can make it stop."

Gamora twisted away from her, tucking her head back into her arms in the hopes that this strange girl would leave her alone. Instead, a pair of small hands grabbed both her wrists with a speed and strength that made Gamora cry out. They quickly yanked her arms away from her body, and freed her knees from their prison against her chest. Gamora put up little resistance as Nebula manipulated her limbs into their right position, until Gamora was sitting cross-legged with her hands clenched fervently in her lap.

"Now stay like that," Nebula ordered her, mimicking her pose across from her, "and breathe with me. Or else they'll come find you and they'll _make_ you stop crying."

Although her muscles were still shaking in the grip of their own private earthquake, Gamora forced herself to stare at the other girl and copy the rising and falling of her chest, struggling to breathe past the sobs. She didn't have a choice—the world around her was a blur of color and emotion and sound, and the girl across from her was the one point of order to follow. She watched Gamora sob without sympathy, merely making sure her breathing was in check. Eventually, Gamora let herself sink down beneath the swelling of her lungs, finding some empty space inside of herself where the memories couldn't touch her. There was only breathing there, and the girl across from her.

When Gamora finally stopped crying, the blue girl nodded in approval. "Good," she said. "You're strong. The ones that weren't don't survive for long."

"I want to go home," Gamora whispered in a voice that still trembled at least as much as her limbs. "I miss my mom and my dad and my brothers."

The other girl leaned forward and grabbed Gamora by her shoulders. "You are home," she said fiercely. "Never, ever talk about where you came from. Don't even think about it. This is home, and Thanos is your father. He'll be good to you, if you're strong, and if you do what he says."

"I have a father," Gamora said, the tears and memories returning again. "He—he—"

"Hey." the girl's fingers squeezed into Gamora's slight shoulders. "Your old family doesn't matter anymore. You have a new one now, just like me. And that means we're sisters now." Her hands found Gamora and held them tight. A hesitant smile broke across the other girl's serious features. "Didn't you ever want a sister?"

"I guess," Gamora whimpered, but even as she said it she sniffled back the tears that had been coming. "If you're my sister, does that mean you have to take care of me?"

The other girl seemed to think about it for a moment. "I guess so," she said dubiously.

"So you'll look out for me?" Gamora asked fervently.

Something softened in the other girl's face. "Alright, fine," she said, the note of annoyance undercut with something more delicate.

"Promise?"

The girl hesitated. "Promise. But you better not slow me down."

Gamora scuttled forward to throw her arms around the other girl's neck, rubbing the tears against the rough fabric of her clothes. The other girl's body stiffened. "I won't," Gamora whispered. "I won't. And I promise I'll take care you too."

A brief moment passed. "Come on," she said gruffly. "You need to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be hard."

"Okay," Gamora said, letting the other girl help her up without losing any contact between them. She guided her other to the bed , set her down—with Gamora's shaking muscles she could hardly make it that far, but somehow she settled her down.

"Sleep," the other girl insisted. But as she rose to walk away, Gamora's hand clung to hers.

"Will you stay with me?" Gamora mumbled.

The girl glanced between her and the door. "Okay," she said at last, crawling into the bed beside her. "But I have to leave in the morning, or else we'll get in trouble." Her body curled around Gamora's like two gears fitting together. Having her so close was enough to keep Gamora's breath regular. She tried to time it with the little bursts of breath that stirred against her cheek.

"Stop shaking," the other girl grumbled into her ear. "I can't sleep."

"Sorry," Gamora whispered, but even when she couldn't make herself stop the other girl made no more comments. "What's your name?"

"I'm Nebula."

"That's pretty."

"No it's not."

 "Oh. I'm Gamora."

Nebula sighed. "Go to sleep, Gamora."

Gamora closed her eyes, but it was only a moment before the flashes of fire and blood came shuffling out of the darkness. Before long she was tensing again, but the pressure and release of Nebula's breathing behind her was enough to keep her grounded. Without a word, the other girl slid her small blue hand into Gamora's palm.

"Why did they pick me, Nebula?" she whispered into the dark.

"Because you fought," Nebula whispered back. "You can never stop fighting again. But don't worry. I can teach you."

As Gamora lay awake in the darkness, the tears streaking silently down her cheek when she couldn't hold them back, she whispered Nebula's name to herself like a prayer. It filled her up with something powerful, the word as constant as the heartbeat at her back. She fell asleep with the word on her tongue, dissolving into a fuzzy sleep filled with flickering shadows and the gentle sound of breathing.

 

 

The open reaches of the training room was filled with the _twack_ of fists on flesh. Around the room were weapons, targets, the occasional first aid kit for the rare chance someone deserved to be healed—then the room sloped down on all sides with a shallow flight of stairs to the arena below. The room smelled like sweat and fear, remnants of the lessons long since passed. People had died in this room, Nebula knew. She had seen them. Of the children that had come into their family over the years, many were already gone. Nebula expected many more would die so that the others could be perfected. Perfection was survival here.

Sparring was always Nebula's favorite. Her small body could become something that moved in unison, the separate parts flowing to a single point where the destination was pain. The best way to avoid pain in Thanos's family was to inflict it. Of all Thanos's adopted children, she prided herself as being best at it. She couldn't remember any life but this one.

The body of her sparring partner went flying up under the force of Nebula's arms and weight, until the girl landed flat on her back with Nebula's elbow planted between his shoulders. She felt the breathe go out of her body and struggle to fight its way back in. In a moment Nebula was on her feet, and left the girl gasping on the cold metallic floor. She would have to learn to be quicker than that.

"How many is that now?" Nebula turned to see Gamora watching her from a few paces away, her slim green arms crossed over her chest. Her white teeth flash from behind insolent lips. Nebula returned it.

"I've bested six so far, and am still ready for more," she said with a confident lift of her chin.

Gamora laughed. "Only six? I've just flipped my ninth. I think I broke her arm."

A flash of irritation cut through Nebula's bravado, if only for a moment. "It seems I taught you well." It didn't hurt to remind Gamora that she had made her what she was today. Each of their triumphs belonged to the other. Gamora shouldn't forget it.

But the other girl just tossed her head of short, dark hair—Nebula had helped her cut it herself—and laughed again. "And the others will hardly thank you for it."  

"You're right about that." This new voice came from behind Nebula—when she turned, the girl she had just bested was on her feet again, a smear of red mixing with her purple skin tone on the lower half of her face. Her nose must have broken when it hit the floor. A couple other resentful faces lingered in the background behind her. Most of them looked familiar as people Nebula had sparred with—the rest, she could only assume, were Gamora's. She knew almost none of their names. Nebula found herself moving closer to Gamora, subtly stepping so that she was slightly between the mob of stone-faced children and her friend.

"You like doling out bruises, do you?" the other girl demanded.

Nebula smiled humorlessly. "It's hard not to when you cry out so prettily."

A hot flush darkened the skin on her cheeks to the color of a bruise. It matched the actual bruises which Nebula had left on her arms. "You know, I think I'll start on your green little friend. Maybe if you beg me for mercy before I bash her head in I might just spare her life."

Nebula could feel Gamora's presence behind her, the tension coiled in her muscles. She felt the other girls fingers reach out and gently touch her wrist, the light warmth like a brand. Nebula's smile twisted deeper into her cheeks. "And that's why you will always lose. A true daughter of Thanos is never merciful."

Without waiting for the group to react, Nebula lunged at the girl and landed a blow directly on her injured nose, eliciting another scream. Gamora was right behind her, tackling one of the nearest girls and wrestling her to the floor. More hands were already reaching for her, feet and fists lashing out—Nebula felt them touch her skin in blossoms of red, and she knew she'd be wincing at the bruises on her skin in bed that night. All that remained to be seen was whether she'd be lying there as a winner or a loser. She went straight for the eyes, the gut, the groin, where others beat senselessly at her shoulders and legs. She wasn't a hypocrite. She showed no mercy.  She could feel and hear Gamora at her side, attacking just as viciously. The sound of her snarls made Nebula's blood sing in her ears.

"Enough." The voice took hold of the room and squeezed, and suddenly the tangle of bodies leapt apart. Nebula scrambled to her feet with the others as they formed a line, shoulders back and arms behind them, eyes staring straight ahead. Their father stood in the doorway, his massive fists clenched at his side, a cold eye running over all those in front of him. Nebula felt a burst of satisfaction with the realization that some of her fellows were struggling to stay on their feet. She wished she could have made them fall down beneath her for good, to sit groveling and whimpering while she stood triumphant. But when Thanos's eyes found her, she saw only a slight edge of contempt.

"I see you have been working hard. This is good. But still, I see some are you are fostering weakness in your hearts." Nebula allowed herself a sly smirk. Someone was about to pay very dearly for their restraint. She hoped it was the girl who had threatened Gamora. She would savor her screams most of all.

But it was her face Thanos's eyes settled on. "Nebula. Step forward."

The bottom of her stomach dropped out, but her body moved without the intervention of her brain—she stepped forward, ignoring the nearly imperceptible rustle from behind her. Confusion punctured the bubble of pride in her chest. Thanos regarded her as if she were a malfunctioning drone before turning to the line of girls behind her. "Gamora. You as well."

Even with the spike of fear at hearing Gamora's name, the presence of the other girl stepping up beside her was a slight comfort. They did not look at each other, but Nebula knew how she was standing—her slight shoulders squared, chin still clinging to a bit of childish fat held high just as Nebula taught her. They would persevere, just as they always had.

Thanos looked from Nebula to Gamora, examining them like two sides of a scale. "You two show great promise among your siblings," he said at last. "But you are clearly too partial to each other. To care for another is weakness, and your sisters are no different. A perfect weapon does not discriminate in what it destroys. Face each other."

Nebula turned to face Gamora, a pit opening in her stomach. She knew already what was coming. She could see in Gamora's dark eyes that the other girl did too. A moment of understanding passed between them, mingled with fear. Both of them knew that Nebula would win. In her heart, Nebula had expected this sooner. Somewhere deeper, she had been preparing herself for it. Now the extent of Nebula's teaching would bare itself—if Gamora had truly learned, she would have been preparing herself too.

"You will fight until you are incapable," Thanos said dispassionately. "Perhaps the winner will curry my favor. Begin."

The blow came so fast that Nebula hardly felt it at first—she only felt the shift in her balance, stumbling backwards in recoil to Gamora's knuckles on her cheek. A weak shot—she could have hit the chin and risked severing her tongue, but she hadn't. Nebula's retaliation came as she slid under Gamora's guard and slammed her elbow into Gamora's stomach, avoiding the meeting of her ribs by just an inch. She would attribute it to error—landing the blow could have ended the fight. She saw the knowledge in Gamora's eyes, the softness she had seen there pulled back behind a mask. There were flickers of it yet. It was still there. Nebula could use it, she knew, play on Gamora's sympathies to best her. But to do so would mean there was no going back.

They circled each other, small bodies tense, feigning, always anticipating the others' moves. They'd sparred together too many times. They were too in tune. When Gamora came charging at her in a storm of knuckles and knees Nebula was ready to block her at every turn. Nebula was a little older and a little bigger, but Gamora was faster. The blows she landed were quick but brutal, and the ones Nebula inflicted sent the other girl sprawling. Every time Nebula wondered if she would get up, and every time she did. Still, she was slowing. Nebula's foot lashed out and caught Gamora on her knee, bringing her down with a sharp cry. In a second she was on her, twisting her arms and pinning her down in a position that would stop her from breathing in the most painful way. Another cry escaped Gamora's throat as she struggled, legs kicking and scrambling for purchase, fingers desperately grasping. Any moment now she would fall unconscious and Nebula could end the fight. Any moment. If she would only stop struggling, Nebula wouldn't have to hurt her anymore. Her heart beat in her throat harder than it should have after a simple sparring bout. Her hands felt as if some dark stain was creeping on them, but she held on tight.

Gamora's grasping fingers twisted behind her back suddenly brushed Nebula's hand, holding her other wrist down in a cruel grip. But instead of digging in, Gamora's fingers gently squeezed her own. A tiny rasping word from beneath her, hardly audible yet impossible to miss—"Please." It must have taken all of Gamora's remaining breath. Something cold twisted in Nebula's stomach, and before she knew what she was doing she felt her grip softening. The gentle fingertips on her own eased her on. And then, in a second, they tightened into claws.

Nebula cried out as Gamora's body beneath her suddenly spun, casting Nebula onto the floor where Gamora quickly pinned her. Her hands went straight for the points where Nebula had been struck in the scuffle before, bringing the dull pain to the surface like knife-jabs. Without hesitation, Gamora's hands went for Nebula's throat, her nimble feet and legs crushing into her arms. Nebula's throat rattled and groaned as she struggled to throw Gamora off—there was no softness in her friend's eyes now. They were dark, flat, expressionless. There was only the drive to hurt. Nebula struggled to speak, to tell her to stop, but the grip on her throat was too tight. She could only twitch helplessly like a bug on a pin, eyes roving around the ceiling instead of settling on Gamora's, the red rising behind her vision until it felt as if her brain was simmering in it. Her head seemed to be swelling larger and larger, getting so heavy it should have dented the metal beneath her. Only when her vision was completely obliterated did she hear the voice stirring around her—"Very good. You may stop."

All at once the pressure was gone from her neck, and she rolled onto her side to heave. For the first time in years she felt her eyes gathering unwanted tears as she forced the breaths past a bruised throat, feeling like she was swallowing ragged chunks of bone. She knew that the others were watching her with scorn and satisfaction, yet it was all she could do not to empty her stomach onto the floor. Even through her pain, she couldn't ignore the voice behind her.

"You have done well, Gamora. You show great promise over all of your sisters. I will be watching your progress closely from now on."

She knew Thanos must have left when the legs standing around her relaxed and drifted away. Maybe some of them would be tempted to kick her when she was down—but the gently pressure of hands helping her sit up could easily have turned back on them. They'd seen what Gamora was capable of. They wouldn't interfere again.

But as Gamora lifted her face to look into her eyes, Nebula could scarcely meet them. The softness there disgusted her. It was the tool Gamora had used to humiliate her, to steal the admiration that should have been hers. Even as Gamora half-led, half-carried her back to bed and crawled in beside her, as she lay beside her all night and stroked the back of her head, all Nebula felt was the way they had flown to her throat as if they had been designed to be there.

 

 

Gamora lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Cold, blank metal was her world—it always had been. But within the next few days, she and Nebula would be embarking on their first unsupervised mission to date. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be on planet without the constant threat of Korag or even Thanos himself hanging over them. All that open space, her blood singing with adrenaline at whatever violence she and Nebula would deal out—a slight smile passed over her face at the thought. It vanished quickly enough. Standing between her and the mission was one crucial thing—the first round of body modifications that she and Nebula were to undergo.

It was a joke, really; they had been modified from the moment they had arrived here, from psychological stimulus to the constant dose of drugs they choked down, but never so dramatically as this. Gamora did not know the extent of what was to happen to her, but she knew it would make her stronger. Strength was everything. Yet she could not help but fear for what she might leave behind. She had already left so much.

As if to mirror her thoughts, the door to her room slid open. There were few who would dare to enter without knocking; without so much as looking up, Gamora identified the tense silence that trailed into the room as belonging to Nebula. There were times when her adopted sister would say nothing at all, and simply slide into bed beside her and let the measure of their breathing share everything they needed to know. It used to be that they could hardly spend a night apart, but those visits had grown scarce as they had continued to grow. The cold space beside her in bed had become a part of her, just as the steady pattern of Nebula's breathing had once been.

This time, Nebula stayed in the doorway. Something seemed to be driving her away. "It's time," she said at last.

Gamora sat up and met eyes with her sister at last. The other girl was hardly a girl at all anymore—she had grown tall, taller even than Gamora, and had filled out her clothes with flesh that even the constant rigorous training hadn't burned away. There was a gangliness to her limbs that belied her youth, and a childishness in her face that Gamora was beginning to suspect would be there forever. It was a soft face. The eyes inside it were as hard as ever.

"We should leave now," Nebula said shortly. "Unless of course you've lost your nerve. I would be happy to report that you have changed your mind."

Gamora smiled coldly as she slid out of bed. Her own body hadn't taken to growth as well as Nebula's had—she was still short, her bones aching with growing pains. Compared to Nebula, she was stunted—but no less deadly. Nebula had always resented that. Gamora couldn't help but suspect that she had become so gorgeous out of pure spite. And she was gorgeous. She was the most beautiful person Gamora had ever seen.

Gamora stood before her now, staring at the woman who she had once considered her only friend. "I will not deny that I am apprehensive."

A flicker of triumph appeared in Nebula's eyes. "Fear is weakness, sister. It isn't becoming on you, even if it's hardly unexpected."

"Fear is necessary, _sister_ ," Gamora snapped in reply. The title is an insult these days. "It is what keeps us alive."

Nebula's smirk faded ever so slightly. "I have no need of it." She turned to leave, but Gamora was faster—her arm snaked out and caught Nebula's own, spinning her around to face her again.

"You can admit that you are afraid," Gamora said, unable to keep the anger and frustration out of her voice. "You still have feelings, I can see that myself. You can deny them to all the others, but you needn't deny them to me." Gamora's grip on Nebula's arm slackened ever so slightly, became gentler. She remembered how Nebula's small hands had felt in her own that first night she had come to the ship. Nebula had been taken younger than her. She had survived without Gamora, but Gamora knew she would never have made it that first year without her.

Nebula wrenched away from her with an accusing glare. "What do you know of my feelings?" she demanded. "What use are they to me?"

"Do you mean what use are they to Thanos?" Gamora demanded. Nebula flinched at the sound of his name. "You don't need to become what he has tried to make you. You are more than a weapon, Nebula. You always have been."

"You forget," Nebula spat. "Thanos made us weapons, but he made us sisters as well. Would you deny one with the other?"

Gamora felt a painful twinge in her chest. "We were bonded together, yes. But not by blood, and not by him. We chose each other—and that is something Thanos cannot claim, and cannot take away."  

Nebula's familiar sneer returned, covering up the vulnerable expression all too quickly. "We shall see about that. Modifications have not even begun." She turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway without waiting for Gamora to follow.

It was the fear Gamora clung to as the nanites went coursing through her blood, tearing her down and building her up better—even as she fought back the screams behind gritted teeth and heard Nebula doing the same, it was her feeling of Nebula's hands in her own that she clung to above all else. When she awoke in the medical bay, there were crescent-shape marks in her palms. Touching them, it was Nebula's hands she felt.

 

 

Nebula sat quietly. The room screamed her silence back at her. It was only a matter of time. The pain in her shoulder was almost unbearable, but that too would pass. Now there was nothing to do but wait, for Gamora would inevitably visit her, and then Nebula would kill her.

Her sister had never been able to resist coming to gloat. Everything she did scored a fresh victory over Nebula, whether she intended it or not. Thanos had chosen her, in no uncertain terms. Nebula had been the one who deserved his love—had she not trained harder and longer than anyone? She had made Gamora what she was, and Thanos had loved her handiwork more than he had loved her. Gamora's modifications were always scheduled to be more rigorous than her own—she would demand they increased her dosage, and hold on for dear life as the pain nearly rattled her apart. She whittled away her body piece by piece. She could take whatever Gamora could, and more—she wouldn't be left behind. Every mark on her body was a reminder of the pain Gamora had inflicted on her, whether directly or not. And now, she had acquired one new scar.

The arm flexed on her leg. It was difficult still to think of it as her own. It seemed separate from her, moving by her command but not as a part of her body. The new metal plated in the side of her face made it difficult to move—she kept her expression still except for the fury in her eyes. Tokens from their latest mission. Nebula had not waited for Gamora before delving into the tombs in search of the Orb which Thanos so desired. She planned to recover it on her own, and show him that he had favored the wrong daughter all alone. Of course, it hadn't happened that way. The trap had been sprung, and Gamora had arrived in time to see Nebula tangled in a matrix of electric-blue thorns. She would never forget the look on Gamora's face—the facade of concern, pain, sympathy. Nebula knew that on the inside, she was crowing.

She knew she deserved to be left behind, just as Thanos had ordered it. It was her own foolishness which led her to be captured, doomed to be slowly ripped apart by the trap she had fallen into. It was Gamora who had pulled the knife from her belt and pressed it into Nebula's free hand. The brief touch of their fingers jolted her back into memories where they had still believed they could protect each other. But they couldn't protect each other. And Gamora had left her behind, to die or be reborn. Nebula had chosen the second.

 She could still feel the dagger cutting into her shoulder like metal teeth, her hands shaking as she wielded it on herself. It was all she could do not to fall unconscious, for that would mean death—the pain she had endured from years of modifications helped her stay awake. The wound had cauterized from the trap as she finally pulled herself free, and from there she remembered very little. She'd woken up back on Thanos's ship with her new arm welded into her muscles. It sat, an unfamiliar weight, like there was still something cold and unforgiving plunged into her flesh. She could feel nothing from the shoulder down. Her body had become something alien.

From behind her, the sound of the door opening and closing. Her good hand tightened on her knee—the other stayed utterly still. She did not turn around, even as the sound of footsteps paused a few feet behind her. The silence stretched thin.

"I did not doubt that you would return to me." Gamora's voice is quiet, almost hesitant. Perhaps she knows that nothing she says can reach back through time and stay with Nebula as she's tangled in the snare that would have killed her.

A bitter smile twists Nebula's lips. "To you, sister? You flatter yourself. I returned for Thanos, to further his glory. He will see now that I am the strong one. I always have been."

"Do not say what we both know is not true," Gamora spat out through her teeth. Nebula twisted around and felt her stomach contract. Gamora's face was set in a grin of pain, her eyes blinking too fast. "You are not this person, Nebula. I see your pain—"

"Do you?" Nebula snarled. "Is it pain you see? Do you truly know me? Perhaps you knew the woman you left behind in those tombs. But I have become something entirely different. Something better."

Gamora shook her head stubbornly. "No matter how much they cut away from you, they cannot cut away the Nebula I know."

At once Nebula was on her feet, whirling on Gamora and grabbing her by the front of her shirt. Her back hit the opposite wall with a dull thud, but Nebula wasn't hurting her yet. Just holding her there, staring into those dark eyes. There was fear there—not fear of pain or death, but fear perhaps of what Nebula might do. She could have laughed.

"'They?'," she asked, inches from Gamora's face. "It was you who abandoned me to die, Gamora. You who handed me the knife. Every ounce of pain I have ever endured has been by your hand." A smile twisted her features. "We said once that we would protect each other, do you remember that? Where was that promise when you left me to cut away the last piece of myself I could cling to all these years? The piece that believed that on some level, you still—" she broke off, turning away. The metal plate in her face ached with the fury and agony that had contorted it. When she met Gamora's eyes again, her face was completely smooth.

"We were children when we made that promise," Gamora murmured, but Nebula could tell she had struck at the heart. Even to her ears it sounded like an excuse. "We couldn't have known what we would have to do."

"No, we couldn't have, could we?" Nebula smirked. "How was I to know that you would betray me at the first possible opportunity? That you would hoist yourself up by stepping on my neck?"

"Would you prefer I had laid down beside you? That Thanos had destroyed us both instead? I would rather do the hard thing, and have both of us live." Her eyes searched for some shred of recognition in Nebula's face. She must have found none, for the abominable sheen of pleading appeared back in her eyes. "I have always cared for you, Nebula. It was never my wish to hurt you—leaving you behind in those tombs was the hardest thing I ever had to do."

Nebula couldn't listen to her words. The implication was too painful. "Yet you did do it," she said. "You left me. Whenever you needed me, I was always there. When I needed you, you pressed a knife into my hand and walked away. Your first mistake was arming me. Your second was letting me live. Such weakness will be your undoing. I promise you that."

The pain in Gamora's face seemed to slacken away. "You truly mean that, don't you?"

Nebula smiled coldly. Her metal arm flexed. "You tell me. There is only so much more left to cut away, Gamora. My failings will become my strengths. And you were always my greatest weakness, were you not?" She leaned in closer, their noses practically touching. She could feel Gamora's breath come in quick bursts on her face. The pounding in her ears could have belonged to either of them. "When I cut you out, I will be perfect."

Gamora's hand slid up, and instinctively Nebula tensed. But her fingers only settled on the side of Nebula's neck, gently. She should have pushed her away. Memories of that moment when they were children, when Gamora's hands had nearly strangled the life out of her, swam beneath the surface of her mind. There was something more there now. Something painful.

A weak smile flitted over Gamora's face before collapsing in on itself, so close Nebula could practically feel it.  "Then let me hope to never see you perfected." When she leaned forward and closed the sparse inches between their two lips, it felt almost as if an afterthought, a piece of thought trailing behind. Nebula did not react, simply letting Gamora's mouth settle on her own, her lips contouring to fit. The kiss was chaste, but in no way innocent—she could feel emotions boiling just beneath the surface, like the heat that radiated from her lips. Something roaring in Nebula's head was coursing through her veins and filling her limbs, settling into the fingertips of one hand and in the other, finding nothing—

The blow was weakened by emotion, but it slammed Gamora's hand away from her neck and shoved her against the wall. She saw a glimpse of shock in Gamora's face before the next blow came, her metal hand curled into a fist. It slammed into her face without resistance, knocking Gamora aside. She slid to the floor, blood gushing from a deep cut on her lip. Nebula's chest heaved.

"You think to undo me once again with sentiment?" she demanded, a wild note hitching her voice. A hysterical laugh undid her lips. "I've learned better by now. You will never touch me again."

Gamora was struggling to stand. "Nebula—"

Nebula did not hold back. She fell on Gamora like something rabid, her fists falling again and again until her knuckles hurt too much to continue. Then she began with her other arm. She felt nothing.

The next day, after Gamora got out of the modification chamber, Nebula saw the scars of healing and reconstruction along her body. She smiled to herself. Let her wear the sign of her weakness for once. There were no more moments of affection between them. No more tenderness in Gamora's eyes as their glances happened to meet. When the black pit opened wider and wider inside, Nebula convinced herself it was the absence of her arm she was feeling.

 

 

After they saved the world, Gamora knew what she had to do.

Peter hadn't understood—she could still hear his voice in her head. "So let me get this straight," he'd said, "you just avoided being violently killed by your assassin adopted sister, _who cut off her own god damn arm to get away from you_ , and the first thing you want to do is go find her?"

"She's not my sister," Gamora had said. "Not anymore. And yes. That is what I want."

Peter had stared at her like she had started praising the god of marshmallows, but he hadn't stopped her. And so they'd let Gamora off at the port and she'd taken a small cruiser—she would bring it back when she was finished—and set off to the first place Nebula could be.

She was not altogether difficult to find. Her implants made her distinctive—the stolen Xandarian ship made her a target. She knew Nebula well enough to know that her move would be to acquire new transportation, secure supplies, and then head for isolation. This would be the first time Nebula had been let loose with no one to take orders from. Gamora did not think she would handle it well. She would undoubtedly be dangerous.

She headed for the planet where they had spent their first mission, after their first modifications had given way to stronger flesh and they had been loosed on the planet's surface. It was a largely desolate area, black chunks of oblivion jutting up over an icy landscape. It was not a hospitable place. That was why Gamora knew Nebula would choose it. She would reject comfort in the face of pain.

On a planet with so little life, it took only a few hours for her computer's scanner to pick up a single life-sign camped out in the midst of the crags. Gamora brought her ship down a miles away, where no sign of it could be detected. She had a long hike ahead of her. She didn't mind. As her feet moved over the black stone under a stormy sky, she thought of what she might say once she arrived. Nothing occurred to her. She had no plan, nothing in particular to get off her chest. She simply needed to see Nebula again. Out of all the things they had done to each other, they could never forsake the other for long.

She found her in the shadow of a large peak, her ship nestled where it wouldn't be seen by prying eyes. A small fire was lit, and Nebula sat before it. She did not see Gamora coming even when she was practically in her camp—Gamora saw the mangled stump of her metal arm jutting out from an oversized coat she must have stolen. Her eyes fixated on the fire, a welding tool held forgotten in her good hand. She looked small in the oppressive landscape around her, a bright splash of color on the background.

Gamora stopped a short distance away, across the fire. Nebula must have known she was there, yet still she did not look up. She acted like one dead in all her senses, incapable of movement.

"I thought I would find you here," Gamora said quietly. At the sound of her voice, the dead machinery of Nebula's mangled metal arm twitched. "Our first mission. I remember this planet well from it."

"Why have you come, Gamora?" Nebula's voice was harsh, unwelcoming. Gamora had expected nothing less.

Gamora took another step closer. "This is the first time we have been able to speak to each other without Thanos's knife pressed to both our necks. That is a conversation I would very much like to have."

"I'm done talking," Nebula snapped. "I ought to just kill you now."

"If you truly wanted to kill me I would already be dead," Gamora said. "You know that as well as I."

Nebula's black eyes darted up to Gamora's. "Do not flatter me. You've always thought yourself better than me."

"You always wished yourself better than me, and hated me when you were not," Gamora shot back. "All that I did, I did to survive. Never to make you any lesser."

"How easy for you to say such things now that you've left them all behind," Nebula said.

"Would you rather I stood by you and Thanos as he laid the universe to waste?" Gamora cried. "Would you rather there were thousands more children made like us, orphans enslaved to Thanos's will?"

"Playing the numbers game, were you?" Nebula snarled. "Was it not enough to give you pause when Thanos ordered us to tear each other apart, again and again, until there was little of either of us left? Was it acceptable to you to leave me trapped, dying, with nothing but a knife for comfort? Nothing less than the fate of the world was enough to overthrow you, so do not pretend that I was ever enough."

Gamora took another step forward, and Nebula leapt to her feet, hands held up in defense. But instead of attacking, Gamora fell to her knees in front of her with an expression of utter defeat.

"It was always you, Nebula," Gamora whispered. "I would have happily sent the universe into a screaming void, if I had you beside me. Our father's greatest mistake was to tear us apart." She looked down. "I know I can never make you see that. So let me offer something else instead." She held her arm out, looked up to see the anger and confusion spread on Nebula's face.

"What are you saying?" she demanded.

"Take it," Gamora said. "Even the score between us. When I forsook Thanos I swore I would repay what debts I could. Pain is all I have left to offer you." She slid her knife from her belt and pressed it into Nebula's hand. After a moment, she accepted it, her knuckles tightening over the handle. Gamora reached out and grabbed the sleek metal of Nebula's forearm to stead herself, just above the juncture where she had cut the rest off. If there was compassion in Nebula's face, Gamora couldn't see it. The knife pressed close to her shoulder,

The knife hit the rock between them with a clang. Nebula said nothing. For the first time that Gamora could remember since they were children, she looked into Nebula's eyes and saw fear—fear of what she could have done, fear of what was going to happen. She had made her choice. Gamora let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and let her arm slide down. She did not rise.

"I've done what Thanos wanted me to for my whole life," Nebula said quietly. "I know he would have wanted me to kill you. But I don't want to anymore. And I guess that matters now."

Gamora smiled sadly. "It takes a lot to defy our father."

Nebula laughed bitterly. "He was never our father," Nebula said dully. "He was our taskmaster. Our abuser. The grindstone pressed to our faces." She looked into Gamora's face, desperation written on her features. "What does that make us now?"

"You are to me what you have always been. The most important person in my life. My greatest source of strength."

Nebula's mouth twisted around a bitter note. Her eyes held a cruelly ironic look. "My sister?"

Gamora shook her head. "I would reject that bond, as we have rejected Thanos. He does not hold us together anymore." She met Nebula's eyes again. "We must hold to each other now. Not because we have to. But because we want to."

Nebula held out her hands, and helped Gamora to her feet. Something tired and wary flitted across her face. "And what of the debts I owe you?" she asked. "Don't try and pretend I've never hurt you in our long years together. I know I've done so more than I can say."

Unbidden, memories of the one kiss they had shared leapt to Gamora's mind, followed shortly by the violence which had erupted as a result. Nebula had demanded she never touch her again, and Gamora had done her best to do so. But now it was Nebula that held her hands as tightly as a lifeline, as if she never planned to let them go.

"It's in the past," Gamora said quietly.

"No, I know it's not," Nebula protested. Her eyes kept flitting away from Gamora's, then back again. "I was afraid. I swore to never act on fear again, but that was the truth. I couldn't give you anything you could have used to hurt me, couldn't face—" She cut herself off. Something changed in her face as her eyes finally settled on Gamora's for good. "Oh, damn it to hell." She leaned in and crushed their lips together.

Gamora felt Nebula's hands leave her own and slide up into her hair, pulling her closer. Gamora let her do it, using her own freedom to wrap her arms around the other woman and pull her even closer. She felt the trembling in Nebula's breath beneath the give and take of her lips, ran her hands over the metal on her face without hesitation. Through the skin on her neck Gamora could feel her heart pounding as they moved together, slow yet demanding. It had been so long since she had felt her so close. It felt like coming home.

When Gamora finally pulled back and let her eyes flutter open. Nebula was watching her already, her breath coming slightly harder than normal, eyes drifting from her eyes to her lips and back again. "I hope I've made myself clear," she murmured.

"Very," Gamora replied with a smile that crinkled her eyes and earned a hesitant one in return. Gamora ran her fingers over Nebula's face, memorizing it by touch as she already done so by sight. Nebula's arms still circled tightly around her, but the moment was passing. Gamora could feel it being driven away, as inevitably as two planets pulled apart by their separate orbits. "You are leaving, aren't you?"

Nebula's head dipped in an affirmative. "I can't join your little gang of misfits," she said with a tired smile.

Gamora smiled back. "I know. You would despise them." The two of them laughed quietly. Nebula pressed their foreheads together. "Where will you go?" Gamora asked.

Nebula's eyes turned up to the sky. "I don't know yet," she said. "I've been a part of something for as long as I've been alive. I think it's time for me to be on my own. At least until I can decide what that means for myself."

"And when that time is over?" Gamora asked, hardly daring to hope for an answer. "What then?"

Hesitantly, Nebula's hand flitted up to cup Gamora's neck, the same way the other woman had done so many years ago. "Then I will go seeking out the people I actually care to be with," Nebula replied with a weak smile. "It's a short list."

Gamora covered the hand with her own, stroking the back of it with her thumb. "Then I will try to be patient."

There was so much space between them still, but Gamora could see it narrowing. They would be together again. And next time, there would be no strings pulling them apart. They would meet again, remade into shapes that fit together once again.

They said nothing of love. Love was an unfamiliar and unwelcome word. It was the feeling behind the silence that counted. They needed nothing more than that.


End file.
